


The Walk of Shame

by ImNotAStick



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Sex, stormlight bondage, well not really hate at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 01:50:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImNotAStick/pseuds/ImNotAStick
Summary: Adolin walks home after a night spent at the Bridge four barracks and recollects what happened the night before.Fill for a tumblr prompt.





	The Walk of Shame

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for this tumblr prompt: https://cosmerekinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/144462571451/nsfw-kadolin-walk-of-shame  
> (Decided to post it here too, because, eh, why not?)  
> Feel free to post any comments/reactions.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Adolin shielded his eyes from the sun, which, to be honest, wasn’t even that bright this early in the morning, but after stumbling out of the dark building right after he woke up, even the morning sun made his eyes hurt. He looked around, disoriented, only vaguely realizing he was standing in front of the bridge four barrack. The next thing he felt was the cold ground under his left foot. He was...missing a shoe? Shaking his head, Adolin turned toward his father’s keep. Although it was still early in the morning, the fact that the sun has already risen made him a bit paranoid.  
By this time, he got accustomed to sneaking from the barrack, although he usually managed to leave much earlier, when it was still dark. This time, however, the nightly activities made him so tired he fell asleep in Kaladin’s bed. It went on as it usually did – starting on the practice grounds, the fight getting as intense as always, accompanied by taunting, insults and the overall air of animosity that has been there from the start. What has changed, however, throughout the weeks of sparring, taunting and barely looking each other in the eye was the aftermath of the sessions.  
It started slowly, almost unnoticeably, as the sparring became more physical, with both of them touching their opponent, even when there was no need, with eye contact, where there previously wasn’t any, with breath, quicker not only from the fight. And just as the attraction between them grew slowly, unobtrusively, it then escalated almost too fast. This one time, when Adolin felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore, he, after the session, simply found Kaladin in a hallway, pulled him into an empty room and kissed him, slamming his back into the stone wall. Much to his joy, the Captain didn’t mind and took the initiative to move the newly-established “relationship” to the next level – right then and there, fucking Adolin nearly senseless. And from then on, this became their ritual. Fighting in the practice grounds and then fucking with even more passion. It was an unwritten rule that who won the sparring got to be on top in the bedroom. But Kaladin loved breaking the all kinds of rules so much, that more often than not, Adolin ended up lashed to a wall, with the Captain’s cock deep in his ass. But he didn’t mind that, not at all. He even let Kaladin win the sparring, from time to time (even though he then had to put up with the endless boasting about losing with a shardblade against an ordinary spear, which was still Kaladin’s go-to practice weapon even after revealing he was a Radiant), simply because he grew to love the smug look on Kaladin’s face, after he fucked Adolin nearly senseless. Oh how was this different from gently making love to Shallan, who, being the only person who knew about the nightly meetings, surprisingly didn’t mind them at all. She even had Adolin describe them to her a few times, and he felt like she wanted to join, but was too shy to ask.  
Adolin looked up and noticed he was nearing his father’s keep. He looked around, searching for soldiers coming from the nightly shift. What would his father’s officers think, if they saw him like this, his hair a mess, one of his shoes and most of the buttons on his shirt missing? Wait, how did that happen, anyway?  
The past night was even wilder than those before, mostly thanks to a small bottle of the strong, violet wine Kaladin bought for them, the wine that Adolin loved, but wasn’t often allowed to drink by his father. That was probably also the reason why he overslept and why his head and eyes hurt so much...and why he couldn’t remember how he lost a shoe, plus a coat, so he couldn’t hide his torn shirt. Last night Kaladin was so impatient, most of Adolin’s clothes didn’t survive the undressing. But when he saw the hunger in the Captain’s eyes, after they reached the barracks, he didn’t even object to having all the clothes ripped off of him violently, immediately. He remembered being pinned to the floor, the dark, almost black eyes, full of lust and roving up and down his naked body.  
And as the wine disappeared from the bottle, there were hands instead of eyes and bites instead of kisses. But this night, Adolin wasn’t planning on letting his lover dominate. This night he won the sparring and wanted to claim his prize. So as the stormlight, that held him to the ground, started to seep out of his wrists and ankles, he took advantage of Kaladin being distracted by biting his nipples (rather too hard) and kicked away the still-infused spheres, then raised himself on the elbows and flipped, pinning Kaladin under him. “Not today, bridgeboy,” he whispered wickedly into his lover’s ear. From then on, all was a blur of Kaladin squirming, begging, screaming and occasionally insulting Adolin as he came once, twice, and eventually even the third time, as Adolin stroked him with one hand, the other holding Kaladin’s wrists above his head, Adolin’s hips pinning him to the ground as an additional safety measure. As Kaladin came, he didn’t scream, as he usually did, but bit Adolin in the neck, breaking the skin.  
Adolin winced even now, remembering the pain. He’ll have to pay back to Kaladin for the bruise that was going to leave. He touched his neck as he was entering the keep, feeling the bite marks. Suddenly, he heard steps. He looked up, quickly trying to find a space to hide, but it was too late. Renarin emerged from a door, looked Adolin up and down and chuckled.  
Well, fuck. At least it wasn’t father.


End file.
